


Confrontation

by Hasegawa



Series: DCU Drabbles: Animals [4]
Category: DCU
Genre: An angsty chapter, Families of Choice, M/M, Need to read previous story in the collection, Tim deserves so much better, Tim need a hug, Tim's outburst, furry family, hurt so good, not as much animal family story, so many angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:55:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasegawa/pseuds/Hasegawa
Summary: The chapter when Tim have a talk with Bruce.Quite a lot of angst, where Tim has given up and Bruce realised he had made Tim gave up.And Jason came as the nanny.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dear, 
> 
> Yes, I have posted this before and then deleted them because of some suggestions and also my need to fill up the chapter a bit. 
> 
> Many apology for this, please enjoy the chapter. 
> 
> Thanks, 
> 
> H.

When the punch landed on his cheek, Red Robin-no, Tim, wondered. He moved back to reduce the impact (not even as hard as Batman’s tickles, no biggie) and swiftly swept the thug with his feet. The man fell down hard. Red Robin moved quickly and hit the man’s head.

 

When did all that become a nuisance?

 

Red Robin wondered should he hit harder. The man was moaning. Usually Red Robin would stop and call the police to arrest the thug who just bullied local teenagers to buying illegal drugs. But today, it was just weird. He felt like the man deserved something more, like probably a broken bone or something. And Red Robin kicked hard, one more time.

 

“Red, stop. Call it a day.”

 

The hoarse voice stopped him. Red Robin didn’t need to turn to know it was Batman. So Bruce had returned from Bermuda or Hawaii or wherever he went with the whole Bat family. Of course Tim was not invited, he was not family after all. Oh, but that was a long time ago. At first Tim thought Bruce would remember that he had forgotten about Tim and felt remorseful enough to try and contact Tim to apologise. But none came. They even met on the last dinner where he sat through dinner trying to dodge Richard. 

 

That made him wondered. Why he started this, the thing that makes him so jaded and old? What makes him want to be a vigilante? No pay, no insurance, no support, illegal activities, dangerous, he lost his spleen for this, and all that… for what?

 

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

 

“Red. Come back.”

 

“Where?” Tim—no, Red Robin asked without even thinking, and immediately regret the question.

 

 “To the Cave. Everyone is waiting.”

 

For what? To laugh at his expense? Because he was not included in the family holiday? Should he go through that dinner sharing sessions between the real sons, joking about what happened in Hawaii or some shit, while all Tim did was spending time with his furry family in the park, gaining pity from passing mothers and their infants? Crying for sweet, sweet Doggie because she was the first family ever loved him back?

 

“What do you need?” Route. It was the safest option. Keep it professional and short.

 

“Check up. You were hit.”

 

“It was just a light graze. I’ve had worse.”

 

Yes, worse. Tim had worse injuries. He had countless broken bones. His nose would never be the same. His jaw was reconstructed more times than average people have dentist visits. His ribs have metal rod to keep it there. His spleen was gone, and he now depends on antibiotics supply. Daily. Three times a day. He definitely had worse injuries than this.

 

“Tim.”

 

“Code please.” Red Robin shrugged. “If you worry I cannot perform tonight, I will leave now. No need to keep me caged in, B.”

 

Why? Why did he sacrifice himself, his health, his future, even his blood family to be Robin?

 

Then he turned and saw Batman.

 

Right.

 

Yes, he sacrificed himself because once upon a time, he wished for something stupid. He saw Batman and Robin jumping from buildings to buildings. They looked good. They were cool. Batman needs Robin. Robin needs Batman.

 

Once upon a time, he wanted that feeling of being needed too.

 

Then it morphed into something even sillier. He wished for a real family. He wished to be loved. He wanted to be one of the real sons. He wanted to be Bruce’s son. Batman’s partner.

 

What a joke. A failure.

 

And Red Robin—Tim, it was Tim all along, was tired already. He knew he had failed. He was a genius, for fuck’s sake. Tim knew when he was beaten and needs to let it go. He was beaten. Hard.

 

“Red, get back to the cave. You need to rest.”

 

“No.” Tim changed his voice, not the hoarse, Batman styled voice as Red Robin. No, he was talking as himself, for once. “No, B. No more. I quit.”

 

“Red…?”

 

“Red Robin is officially dead today. You don’t need to do this anymore. I quit. Red Robin is out for good.”

 

And with that, he took his grapple and swung up, leaving B behind.

 

 

* * *

 

Tim entered his apartment, opened his clothes and chucked it into the dustbin. He would dispose it later, making sure everything burn to ash. Walking naked across the apartment, he turned on the stove and burned the mask. No more. He had enough.

 

Lab the Labrador came to him and nudged on his thigh. Tim smiled a little and patted the dog, then decided to get hot bath. This was it, the night he stopped being a vigilante and now he must erased everything. He went to see himself in the mirror and saw a horrible fragile, pale except for horribly bruised cheek and blood painting his nose. Guess the thug had one in. He just didn’t feel it anymore. his tolerance to pain was already too high he couldn’t feel it then.

 

He entered the bath, running the hot water and felt tired to his bone. What was he fighting for? He’d left everything now. He’s not a Wayne anymore—Tam helped him to get it erased off his name. Tim would not be the director of WE starting the time Bruce signed off the document shoving that title to one of his real sons. Tam had submitted the documents already, and Tim was waiting for it to be signed and official. And since he told Bruce RR quits, he was not Red Robin anymore, now.

 

Nothing was left. He felt empty. Take out Bruce and Batman from him, and what he got left? Nothing but an empty shell. He was an orphan, no family at all, with little money to his name—the Drake Industry had shrunk considerably that even if Tim sell all his organs and be a hooker, he wouldn’t be able to save it—and his family consists of furry animals. He has his animals. Just them. But for how long? Doggie couldn’t stay long. And neither would the rest. Their life span are much shorter than human.

 

Maybe he should just enjoy himself for now. Then he could think what to do next, what would be the best way to live on.

 

Just… later. Now let him enjoyed the hot bath.

 

 

* * *

 

He blinked.

 

He woke up on his bed, wearing his old T shirt and shorts. The last thing he remembered was having a hot bath. He turned to his left and saw someone sitting beside him. Immediately, he turned tense and his body coiled, ready to attack.

 

“Tim, it’s me. Calm down.”

 

A voice. He used to long for this voice. This tone. This man.

 

Bruce was watching him, sitting on a chair beside his bed. Bruce had taken one of the kitchen chair to sit. Tim blinked. Since when did he enter…?

 

“How do you feel?”

 

He involuntarily twitched. The question was odd and scary. He didn’t know how to answer that properly.

 

“Tim, I found you passed out in the tub, with cold water. Do you feel better now?”

 

He had fainted. Right. A concussion then. A light one, probably. Tim didn’t realize it at all. Maybe the hit was quite hard. Maybe.

 

“I..” his voice was hoarse. His mouth felt too dry. He coughed a bit, and it continued. He couldn’t stop coughing, it was quite painful as the cough started from his chest. What… oh yes, maybe he forgot his antibiotic. He needed one immediately now.

 

Bruce gave him a glass of water and some pills Tim recognized as pain killer and his plethora of antibiotics. He nodded and drunk it all in one go. He had little gag reflex now, having to swallow those pills all the time.

 

“Do you need something else?”

 

Tim closed his eyes. Why? Why Bruce asked that question? It felt like Bruce suddenly care. Something must be wrong.

 

“Tim, lets get back to the Manor. Let Alfred take car…”

 

“Why now?” Tim asked, hoarsely. Even though he had the whole glass of water, his throat felt dry, still. “Why this, now?”

 

Bruce seemed tense. And then he replied, “Because I worry.”

 

“Worry? Worry about what?”

 

“You.”

 

“Why would you worry about me?” Tim was genuinely confused now. It seemed like a dream. He pinched himself. Nope, it wasn’t a dream. He felt the tactile sensation of his own fingers.

 

“You are my son, Tim. Of course I worry.”

 

Tim was stunned.

 

“…Cut the crap, B. You are not… I am not… You don’t care about me. I am not your son. I was never your son. And if I still remember correctly, I am not Red Robin or Robin anymore. Why you’d care?”

 

“Tim, you are my son. I know I have been absent and hard on you, and I deserve this. But you need help.”

 

“Don’t pin this on me.” Tim felt his anger rose. “I am not being hard on you. I am stating the fact. You are worried because Red Robin was not performing, right? And that’s why I quit. You don’t need to worry about Red Robin anymore. Case closed. Don’t pretend you care or some shit. You don’t get to pin this on me. Fuck you.”

 

“Tim…”

 

“Please leave.” Tim gritted his teeth. “You don’t get to pretend to care now. Maybe you want to appease your own guilt, or ego or anything, I don’t care. But you don’t get to call me your son. You don’t get to pretend to help. Now you are trespassing, so go away.”

 

“I wont go. Not until you are better.” Bruce growled. “You have mild concussion and you fainted. You are not in your right mind…”

 

“I am in my right mind!” Tim shouted. “Because otherwise I will still trying to beg a scrap of your attention, a glimpse of your approval on me! I was crazy and fucking desperate to be noticed that it wasn’t even funny. You are never my father, even though I wished you were. If you genuinely ever cared, you should have shown it when I lost my spleen. You should have remembered me to bring to your so called family holiday. You should remember me when you think of your ‘sons’. Admit it, you don’t. Ergo, I was never your son and it is so degrading for you to say it now. I was and never am a “Wayne”. So please leave.”

 

Bruce didn’t reply, but just kep his eyes on Tim. It was not the usual Tim. The usual Tim would just stayed in silence and be a yes man for Batman. But Tim was too tired now, no more. Feeling uncomfortable with the Bat-stare, Tim looked away and realized none of his furry family was inside the room. He noticed the soft growling from outside the door, and something scratching the locked door. The animals do have their own respective sleeping places; but most night they crowd on Tim’s bed. And they were trying to get into the room.

 

Tim wanted to walk to the door and opened it, welcoming the furry comfort from his current non-human family. He wanted the safe comfort, the painless existence when he was with them. Before Doggie died, of course. Too immersed in his thought, Tim almost missed the soft whisper from Bruce.

 

“You are a Wayne, Tim.”

 

The words stopped Tim’s thought. Wayne? Since when? He was always lured by the promise of being a Wayne—being Bruce’s son. He wanted to be like Dick, Jason and Damian. Feeling comfortable calling themselves Bruce’s protégée or son. Knowing that they have the right to be Robin, because they are Bruce’s partner. The carrot on stick that Tim hold on to. And what did he get? A half-assed “Timothy Drake-Wayne” which already changed back to “Timothy Drake.” How much more pathetic could Tim be, if he melt just because Bruce said he is a Wayne?

 

“See? You don’t even care to know about that. Yeah, maybe this is the right time to tell you. I have legally erased Wayne from my name. I have signed the resignation letter and you just need to choose your new director because I won’t be there anymore. I am tired of being your fucking soldier, Bruce.”

 

“Tim…”

 

“Let me lick my wound in peace, Bruce.” Tim pleaded. “Leave.”

 

“This is not over, Tim. But you need your rest.” Bruce stood up from the chair. “Alfred will come soon.”

 

“Don’t. please tell him there’s no need to do that. I am fine.”

 

“You can’t even move from your bed right now.”

 

“What’s the difference between this and all the time I have been injured before? You’ve never cared. And I am still alive.”

 

Bruce, despite saying that he would leave Tim in peace, stayed there.  His face crumpled and suddenly, he looked like he aged a lot. Tim wondered whether it was true, or Bruce was acting. Batman was a master of deception after all.

 

“…You are still my son.”

 

“…Let it go, Bruce.” Tim exhaled. The words confirmed it. Bruce was just acting. Maybe he couldn’t accept Tim’s initiative to let go off the carrot. Tim was too tired to keep going for acceptance and recognition from Batman. Not anymore. “I am sorry if I bruised your ego. You were not a father to me at all. This pretending to care is just to appease your ego, your guilt. I don’t know who told you, or make you feel like you need to do this, but I am not… I cannot do this anymore. You’ve never cared, and now I have decided to stop to try and make you care about me. Win-win for everyone, so please just let it go.”

 

“That’s where you were wrong, Tim. You never need to try and make me care about you. I always care. This is not ego talking. This is a father worrying.”

 

Tim sighed. Bruce continued.

 

“You are still a Wayne and the director of WE. Until you really want to pursue something else, then you can resign. But I wont let you resign because of this reason. I may not the best father for you, but trust me, I do care.”

 

“When?” Tim laughed. He was an inch away of losing his temper, and his control over his tears. “When I lost my spleen? When you let Jason almost kill me because I am his replacement? When you let Damian belittled me because I am not ‘blood’? When you let Richard gave Robin to Damian, even though I lost my spleen to save you? When Richard sent me to Asylum because he thought I was crazy for believing you were alive? When you dump all WE to me, while you go and try to safe Jason and the world? When you brought them to your nice little family holiday… and forgot me? When you never, never, ever, ask me to stay in the Manor, while keep begging Jason and Richard to visit you? What a great father you were.”

 

“…I am sorry, Tim. I tend to overlook you because you were the most capable of looking after yourself, and I thought giving you your personal space was what you wanted.”

 

“Great. I am very well now. Your half-ass apology has miraculously healed me.” Tim sneered. He felt evil, but his rage was above it all. He was hiding his hurt with his anger. “Wow, such magic. You know what? I think I would feel even better if you just go away.”

 

“Tim… I have wronged you. I am sorry I failed you, Tim. What can I do to make it right?” Bruce looked a bit defeated. Tim refused to continued giving raise to the bait, though. They fell into uncomfortable silence; and the whimpering noises started to rise.

 

“Please let them in when you get out.” Tim croaked.

 

Bruce nodded. He walked to the door and opened them, bracing himself when an army of corgies and a duck surged into the room, rushing towards Tim’s bed. They jumped up; followed by the rest. Tim buried his face on Corgthree’s fur. He heard Bruce walked away and closed the door behind him.

 

Tim started to sob. He was pathetic but at least he didn’t cry in front of Bruce. His furry family tried to lick his face; but the tears wont stop and Tim kept sobbing until he passed out from tiredness.

 

It felt like his father’s death all over again.

 

 

* * *

 

His fever rose high because he didn’t have his antibiotics on time. Tim couldn’t move much, but he truly needed to get some water and more antibiotics, as well as feed his furry family. But his head was spinning and all he wanted was someone…

 

That hurts. To think that he still needs someone, and he didn’t have anyone.

 

Oh well.

 

He needed to suck it up.

 

He rose from the bed, leaning to the wall as he slowly walked towards the door. The door was weirdly open; and the animals were gone. When he managed to walk out of the bedroom door, he found Jason was feeding his furry family and squatted while rubbing CorgOne.

 

“Hey. You look like shit.” Jason smiled softly. “Let me take care of them, you go back to sleep.”

 

“Why.” Tim coughed, hard. The cough continued until he couldn’t stand. He fell onto his knees and shuddered. His chest was in so much pain. A pair of strong arms grabbed his shoulder and he was embraced by a strong, warm chest.

 

“Ssshh, Shhh. It’s okay, Princess.” Jason’s words were soothing. “Let’s get back to bed, yeah? I’ll bring you some nice hot warm honey and your candies. By candies I mean your antibiotics.”

 

“Why..” Tim wheezed. It was hard to breathe. “Why… you… here?”

 

“Somebody needs to take care of you, princess.” Jason whispered softly. “And your plethora of animal army could not bring you your candies, no matter how cuddly they are.”

 

Did Bruce send you? Tim wanted to ask. But he couldn’t, as the cough kept coming. In the end, he returned to bed with warm water bottle on his chest, mouth filled with aftertaste of honey water and bitter sting of pills. Jason sat beside the bed, looking at him while caressing Tim’s hair.

 

“Sleep, princess. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

 

And somehow, Tim believes Jason anyway.

 

 

 

    

 

  


End file.
